


One Night and the Things Between

by TheAmeriFin



Category: Escape the Night (Web Series), One Night Escape
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmeriFin/pseuds/TheAmeriFin
Summary: They say small decisions can sometimes have the biggest impact. After receiving a mysterious invitation in the mail for a party themed in the 1920s, Victoria Sarnoff doesn't realize how much one night can change a life.
Kudos: 6





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> One Night Escape (ONE) is a project by my friend Tepig28 and its concept and formula comes from the web series of "Escape the Night" by Joey Graceffa, hence the two fandoms tagged here. The story is comprised of entirely original characters and one of them- Victoria Sarnoff- is the one I had the pleasure of creating and playing. This work here is for any side content I myself have written, while the full project of ONE can be found over on Tepig's account. Each chapter or section of this work will contain a basic summary and any potential content or trigger warnings in the notes, like they are below.
> 
> Chapter One, "The Invitation", focuses on the invitation that started it all, hours before the party.  
> Content/trigger warnings: none

Bill, junk, bill, grocery store advertisement… Victoria tossed the unopened mail onto the kitchen table one by one. The last envelope in her hands appeared to be a letter, and the neat handwriting in pen made her pause. It was 2020; who sent letters anymore?

It was…

Interesting.

She pulled up a chair and sat, reading over the sender’s name and address. _Tepig Cathun._ There was a name Victoria hadn’t heard in a while. After high school, she didn’t see much of Cathun. She had been invited along to a casino or two on occasion- it seemed like gambling was Cathun’s favorite pastime and for their credit, they were damn good at it. Even if the two didn’t talk as much as they used to, at least the trips weren’t boring. Made for pretty good stories, too.

So to get a letter in the mail from them was already a little strange. The handwriting did match what Victoria remembered seeing a handful of times, but why send a letter? Victoria turned it over, finding a seal on the back. Real official, she mused. Real weird.

The brunette slid a fingernail underneath it and opened the envelope. Enclosed was the letter itself, as well as a smaller scrap of paper that fell out when Victoria opened the letter. She decided to read over the letter first.

“ _Dear beloved friend_ ,”- Victoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes and wondered how many other people would be receiving the same exact letter given the greeting- “ _A close friend has recently given me a house and is planning to give me the deed tonight, so I invite you to a dinner party to celebrate._ ”

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, thinking. How rich would you have to be to just give a house to someone? Still, “give” might not be the whole truth of it. There had to be a catch somewhere. There always was. She kept reading.

“ _Although there is something strange about the house. It only exists in the 1920s. And as such, to enter the house's grounds you must be dressed in apparel from the time period and have the personality of the era._ ”

“Only exists in the 1920s, yeah, sure,” she muttered. If this was an actual invitation to something, it was probably to a prank, rather than a dinner party. Victoria couldn’t say she wasn’t interested in the idea, though. A dinner party themed around the 1920s- now one hundred years ago- was pretty unique.

“ _If you try to bring any items from the present age, the house will simply never appear for you. I have attached the information for the party, with your personality and where to find your clothes,_ ” Victoria read. She glanced at the scrap of paper that had been left untouched. If being told how to dress and what to do was already provided, then that meant less work for her. The idea of having to leave her phone behind was less appealing.

“ _Soon the butler of the house will come to your home and escort you in their mysterious time traveling car, I hope to see you all tonight,_ ” she raised an eyebrow. How confident was Cathun that everyone who was invited would say yes? Besides, a ‘mysterious time traveling car’... yeah, right. They probably hired someone for the whole charade. And more than that…

Tonight? Victoria checked the time on her phone. It was a little past noon, so if she was going to go, she still had enough time to find the clothes and get ready. “ _It'll be a night to remember. Sincerely, your friend Tepig _.__ ”

At best, her old friend was completely serious, and they had somehow come into ownership of a house stuck in time. It almost seemed possible, given how often Cathun gambled. There would be a dinner party with Cathun and probably some people she’d never met before.

At worst, it was all a joke and she’d spend her night on that instead of drinking at home again. But either way, it would make for a compelling story.

Victoria tossed the letter onto the table and reached instead for the smaller paper. She skimmed the party information before the image of the 1920s attire caught her eye. Tonight, it seemed like she would be trading out her beanie, t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. According to the picture, she was to be dressed in a dark gray suit with a tie and lighter gray slacks, alongside a newsboy cap and saddle shoes. A vintage pocket watch on a chain was also included in the image.

The address of a few local clothing stores were included. Below that, four words were penned in dark ink.

#### The Radio Show Host

Interesting… very interesting, indeed.


	2. Escaped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers for the ending of ONE! Go read that first if you haven't already.
> 
> Shortly before 6 AM, the survivors manage to escape the 1920s and the curse that kept them there. Hours after the escape, the burden of surviving when others had died is already taking its toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two, "Escaped", came shortly after we wrapped up the story last year (2020). I had a lot of thoughts/feelings/ideas about the aftermath of it. And now that all of ONE is officially posted, I have a lot more content to put up about the events before, during, and even after that night.
> 
> Content/trigger warnings: blood, alcohol, nightmares, implied PTSD

Victoria’s couch was covered in different parts of her outfit. The hat and tie had been thrown haphazardly there, with the shoes somewhere under the coffee table. She slumped in the armchair nearby and exhaled deeply.

Most of her gray waistcoat had been stained a dark red after the final hour of their desperate escape attempt. Not Victoria’s blood, but Clara’s, when the latter had taken a bullet to the chest and they tried to stop the bleeding. The jacket still remained with Clara, in the hospital. 

The smell of blood hadn’t left either, from her clothing or memory. It probably never would. If she closed her eyes too long, she could see pools of it from the bodies- 

She groaned in anguish and pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes as if to block out the vision. Her own house swallowed up the sound and went silent again. Home. The one place Victoria was certain she’d never see again.

After Clara had been admitted to the hospital (and what a sight the three of them must’ve been, dressed from the 1920s and exhausted and bloodied), the doctors requested that Opek and Victoria return at a later time. The two of them simply did as they were told and Victoria drove the mechanic home before returning to her own. 

It still felt like something was holding onto her heart, and Victoria thought nothing of it until she arrived home and the feeling hadn’t left. She chalked it up to stress and exhaustion. Maybe it would be gone in the morning, if she managed to sleep at all. Her hopes weren’t high for that.

Victoria stripped off the waistcoat, trousers, and white collared shirt. The chain of the pocket watch hung from the pocket and she pulled it out to look at it. The glass had been shattered at some point, most likely when Opek tackled Victoria out of the way of some stray bullets, and the watch hands no longer moved. They remained frozen in place shortly before 6 AM.

She ran an unsteady hand through her wavy hair, fingers catching on a familiar, stubborn strand that could not be brushed flat. Caps and beanies had always been her best friend in concealing the quirk. The brunette spared another glance at the hat on the couch, shaking her head. Cleaning and returning the rental outfit suddenly seemed like the least of her concerns. The task could wait for tomorrow. Besides, she was certain she never wanted to see those clothes ever again. 

In a few minutes she had crawled into bed, sore and exhausted in every possible way. Sleep came quickly. And so did the nightmares.  
Seven people sat around the circular table. They looked at each other, sometimes glancing at the loaded gun in the middle. Victoria gripped her paper hard enough to crumple the corner. Kill me, it read.

They went around and around in circles, giving truths or dares, and all the while she could hear it. She could hear the ticking of the watch in her pocket. Tick, tick, tick… a watch, a paper, a bomb, a gun. Every second that passed was another second closer to someone’s end. Her end? She’d never been this close before. But she still had a lifeline. Victoria hesitated before trading the paper to someone else. 

[Should you have done that?]

Another circle passed before someone else’s bomb went off. “Dare,” she said. The biggest threat to the group’s teamwork must go. Victoria received the gun and everything in her head pleaded and refused, but something held onto her heart as she raised the weapon. She prayed that her aim would be steady. 

The gun went off. The pressure in her chest squeezed like the trigger did, and as she gasped for air, the room disappeared.

The weight of the gun was replaced by something heavier, and she looked down. The bottle. Clara and Cathun stood to the side, debating over the notebook. Somewhere above them, the other three unsuspecting house guests. They were not safe. None of them had done any wrong.

And yet. Their lives were on the line, without even knowing. The debate continued while Victoria went back and forth in her own head. They were running out of time. She knew. So she uncorked the bottle and started drinking, ignoring the burning feeling and the shouting. Her throat was on fire by the end and the bottle dropped, shatting onto the floor. 

[You should have done it.]

The crown came next, entangled loosely in her fingers. She looked away to respond to Clara in a moment of distraction. In the next moment it was out of her hands; Ante looking back at her, crown on his head. 

If there is a god, she pleaded internally, please let the four of them make it out alive. They had suffered enough. But there was no god, and there was no mercy. The three of them did as Ante asked, closing their eyes. They trusted his words.

And then the gunshot tore a hole through that, and Ante along with it. The deed crumpled in her hands.

[It should have been you.]

The sound Victoria heard when she finally woke up was so raw and loud that she didn’t recognize it belonging to her at first. She went silent; one hand pressed to her chest as it heaved and ached. The feeling did not lessen even as she stumbled to her feet and moved to the kitchen.

She grabbed a dark-colored bottle from the fridge, screwed off the cap in one motion, and drank without pause. When she did stop, she was out of breath and held onto the countertop with her head bowed. Victoria waited until her heart rate settled and she buried her face in her hands.

To her surprise, neither the police nor her neighbors came knocking at the door. A miserable smile made its way to her lips. How lucky. If they had heard her screaming earlier, they had ignored it. The brunette glanced at the time on the microwave, finding it to be still far too early in the morning. Her reflection in the glass looked unlike herself; dark shadows under her eyes and pale skin. 

She sat in bed, motionless and unfocused, for the remaining few hours until it was an acceptable time to make a call. Victoria had swapped numbers in the chaotic blur of the hospitals. She thumbed through the list and stopped at one name in particular.

The ringing didn’t last very long.

“Hey Opek, how-”

...

“Yeah, I did.”

...

“...Was it that obvious…? You’re right, I didn’t. Did you?”

...

“...Well, that’s good.”

…

“Okay. Yeah. I can come by later to pick you up and we’ll go see her.”

...

“...Hey, listen. After we go visit, I was thinking of trying to track down everyone’s families. Or whatever they have. For…”

...

“...Yeah. I just- I think it’s something we have to do. And I want to.”

...

“With Ante? Yeah, I understand. Okay. We’ll start with him.”

...

“...I’ll see you later.”


End file.
